


Whatever is fine

by beforethesungoesdown



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, Sobriety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforethesungoesdown/pseuds/beforethesungoesdown
Summary: After getting dumped and fired from a promising work in NY, Gerard comes back to New Jersey to focus on getting his shit together.During a midnight insomnia walk, he finds "Iero's Pizza" a small restaurant attended by a tattoed punk guy.
Relationships: Bert McCracken/Gerard Way, Frank Iero & Gerard Way, Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 39
Kudos: 50





	1. Pick up the pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be very different from the other fanfic I'm currently writing. Very angsty but a lot of fluff still. Hope you like it!

Gerard was a mess.

He couldn't remember a time where he felt worst than this day even though they were a lot of low moments in his life for sure. He instantly remembered the time when Mikey found out that he was doing cocaine occasionally. Then, when that "weekend bad habit" became more an everyday thing and Bert found out, and had to tell Mikey and Donna what he was into, forcing him into going to NA meetings. 

He couldn't blame Bert for kicking him off the apartment. He made a promise that Gerard recalled every day he struggled with using again. It was after a group support session. Bert held his hand for a long hour and when they were in the subway home he finally broke his silence. 

—When you get better-- when you get back on your feet, I want you to leave the apartment. 

Bert had to fight his own demons too. He was only 8 months clean when they meet in New York. And as fast an addiction develops, their turbulent relationship went pretty fast too. After dating for two months, they went to live together. It was great. Gerard scored this great job in an animation studio in the city and Bert remained surprisingly sober while working at the music industry in the most rabid city in the world. 

But Gerard felt like the city was changing him. He wanted to go out all the time now, he wanted to party and to live by this crazy new yorker artistic life, the kind of life that Bert already experimented and brought him so many problems. Every time Gerard invited him to a party with him and his coworkers, Bert said no because the temptation would be too much and he didn't want to relapse. Gerard felt bad. He felt guilty and selfish but he was already to fixated into having this glamorous lifestyle. Yes, he felt bad but he also felt like this was his only chance to live into his "The Factory" fantasy. He was an art nerd, after all. 

And then 9/11 happened. He started to drink a fucking lot, dance a bunch and to see the sunrise sitting on the sidewalk, wasted as hell. He got used to sleeping for a couple hours and go to work still drunk, trying to forget the horrible images of the planes crashing into the buildings. He tried K, MDMA, and his personal favorite: cocaine. In just a few weeks, he started to use it on a daily basis. He didn't want to tell Bert for obvious reasons but it didn't take long enough until he found out the blow in his trousers after Mikey snitched.

Then it all went to a shithole. Gerard got fired, got an intervention by Mikey, Bert and his mother, and went to NA meetings. But after four hard months of sobriety, he finally felt better. He went to hell and came back. Gerard has seen the worst of himself and made it after all. 

But nothing prepared him to look at Bert crying as helping him to pack up his stuff. It was kind of a numb pain. He knew this moment was coming, but it was painful still. Like a summer love at the end of the break. Good things have an expiration date and that date comes early if you fucked your chances like Gerard. 

Ray was nice enough to help Gerard with moving his stuff. He was outside the building with his old car and strong arms to help with the boxes and drive him back to Jersey. He was also nice enough to let him crash in his house until he got back on his feet. Despite Ray never saw Gerard at his lowest, he didn't want his friend to go back to hell. 

Before getting into the car, Gerard and Bert hugged for a long time. 

—Stay clean, please. —whispered Bert— I'm so sorry, I didn't want to.

—I know. It was me or yourself. I would have done the same, believe me. —Gerard tried to wipe out his tears but they were none. He was heartbroken and didn't have a single tear left to cry. 

***

Gerard slept most of the trip. When he woke up, the first thing he saw was the familiar houses of his own old neighborhood. The light posts turning on as the sunset was ending. 

—Thank you, Ray. 

—For what? —asked Ray, eyes in the road. 

—Helping me with the move, letting me stay at your home. Everything, you know. 

—It's okay, Gee. Just promise me to take care. 

Gerard didn't answer. He just hummed. 

—How are you feeling? 

—Numb. —Gerard sighed. 

—How's that? 

—I just... I knew that Bert was going to break up with me. I don't blame him, I don't hate him. But I wasn't really prepared. It all happened so fast. I just got sober and he...

—Hey, it wasn't your fault. 

—It was, Ray. I'm kinda pissed because I know it was my fault but I wanna be angry with Bert because he didn't give me another chance but the truth is... that he already gave me a chance. 

—You mean him being with you while sobering up?

—Yes. I don't know. I mean, if he supported me during that hard time, why did he break up with me when I got better? —Warm tears started to run through Gerard's pale face.— Am I being too shitty for feeling this way? 

Ray handed Gerard a tissue when he started to whimper. 

—Don't be so hard on yourself, Gee. You have another chance to make things better, you know? And you have me, Mikey, your mom. 

—I can't even look them in the eye. 

—It'll get better. Just be patient. You already went through the worst bit and you are good, this is going to be difficult but not impossible. 

Ray parked in the garage. Gerard was still crying softly when they brought the boxes inside the house and into the guest room that was going to be Gerard's room for a while. When they were done, Ray ordered Chinese take out and ate while watching The Jetsons. Finally, Gerard was laughing. 

—I really want to make a TV show, I'm still pissed Adult Swim didn't pick mine. 

—You still can, you know. When you get better you can go back to New York and get even a better job. —said Ray, picking up the dishes. 

—I don't know if I want to go back to that fucking city. 

—What? You loved it!

—Too many memories. 

—Oh.

—I'm not gonna cry, I swear, I already cried too much. —Gerard tried to joke while washing the dishes— I'm gonna miss being able to walk anywhere, though. 

—I'm going to bed. If you need anything, just knock my door... 

Gerard finished the dishes, still restless. He searched for his smokes in his pockets but he only got one left. 

—And if you need to smoke please do it outside or open a window. —added Ray.

—Okay, mom. —scoffed Gerard.

—I don't want the house to stink! —laughed Ray.— Good night. 

***

Sleeping in a new room is always difficult. The silence of the residential area made Gerard miss the constant screaming and honks outside his old apartment. The smell of new, fresh bed sheets made him miss Bert's scent. He cried again and finally got up when he realized that was going to be another night dealing with insomnia. When he finished smoking his last cigarette, he put on a jacket and went to the kitchen to write a note. 

_"Ray, if for some weird reason you wake up at midnight please read this: I couldn't sleep so went for a walk and to buy some smokes. I swear I'm going to be okay, I'm taking my phone so call me if you freak out but please don't freak out. ILY, G"_

The first days of autumn were close and the chilly breeze felt sharp in Gerard's face. After walking for 20 minutes, he blamed himself for not asking Ray if there was a convenience store near his house. 

As he kept walking, he dreamed about Bert calling him saying to come back home with him. Gerard looked at his phone. Not a single call or text message. He sighed and stopped his wandering, enjoying the calm night and the fact that the lights were so low, also realizing that maybe he could live without cigarettes for a night. How difficult it could be? 

Until he saw an old building with the lights on. He approached it, hoping somebody could help him with directions. 

"Iero's Pizza" the sign read. From the outside, Gerard peeped a short guy he thought was underage until he noticed the tattoos covering his left arm. He had a soft face, contrasting his buzzcut. He was writing something, focused enough to mind Gerard. 

When Gerard was done trying to analyze if the pizza guy was a threat or not (you never knew in Jersey) he knocked, making the guy look surprised. Obviously it wasn't that common occurrence for people to show up at midnight. 

—We are closed. —the guy said, opening the door. He had a raspy voice, deeper than Gerard expected.

—It's okay. I just want directions, I'm looking for a convenience store and I'm kinda lost. 

—There's one like 4 miles away that is open.

—Shit. 

Gerard sighed, looking at the street. 

—Are you walking? —said the pizza guy, raising an eyebrow at Gerard. 

—Yeah, I didn't know I needed a freaking car to get some cigarettes. 

The pizza guy looked at Gerard for a few seconds. Gerard noticed it and realized how weird he must look for walking everywhere. He wasn't in New York anymore.

—Sorry, I swear I'm not homeless. I'm sort of new here and I don't have a car yet. 

Gerard gave the pizza guy an embarrassed face. 

—Okay, I feel sorry for you now. —From his pocket, the pizza guy took two cigarettes.— But if you try to mug me I swear to God...

—Shit, no, dude. I don't want any problems. 

They both sat on the sidewalk. The night was getting colder but it didn't seem to have an effect on the pizza guy, who was only wearing black pants, a Black Flag shirt, and an apron. 

—I'm Frank by the way. 

—Gerard, the weirdo who walks everywhere. 

Gerard shook Frank's hand. It was warm and smelled like pizza dough. Gerard also noticed Frank had a piercing in his lip and nose that kind of sparkled with the dim street lights when he smiled slightly. 

They remained in silence for a few minutes. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence Gerard thought. Or maybe he was still numb about all the stuff that happened during the long day. 

—So, Gerard, the weirdo who walks everywhere. —Frank said taking a long whiff— What are you doing wandering in the streets? What's your story?

—I don't... I don't have a story I think. —Gerard felt like his eyes were watering again, he tried to fight it but his voice was shaky— I just moved back here from New York.

—Hey, I'm sorry dude. Shit. —Frank had a worried look when he noticed Gerard breaking in front of him. 

—Fuck, no, I'm sorry. I'm a fucking mess. —Gerard chuckled softly, wiping out his tears— You just met me and I'm already crying, fuck. I don't want to freak you out, I'm just having a very hard time. 

Frank nodded, looking surprised calm. Gerard found it very weird Frank didn't chase away him. He was a stranger crying in the sidewalk after all. 

—Do you want some pizza? I don't really know what are you going through but it looks like you need some comfort food. 

—No, don't worry, I just ate--

—Nah, just come inside. Plus, you are freezing here. 

Frank smiled and opened the door for Gerard, welcoming him with an enticing pizza smell. And suddenly, Gerard was hungry. 


	2. That wasn't nice

"Iero's Pizza" seemed stuck in the 60s. It had a couple of leather booths, dark wood tables that matched with the bar counter were Gerard was sitting while watching Frank work. The place was tiny, the capacity was probably about 15 or 20 people maximum that made the restaurant somehow even cozier and intimate. The lights were warm and dim, just bright enough to reveal the decorations: some old baseball pictures and shirts framed from some team Gerard never heard about. He felt so left out from Jersey. Like he was missing some pieces even though he lived most of his life there. Why nobody talked about how depression led to memory loss?

—So, Frank, do you own this place? —said Gerard as natural as possible despite the fact he was crying in the street in front of him a few minutes earlier.

—Almost. —Frank was on the other side of the bar counter, taking ingredients out of a very old refrigerator — Do you like olives?

—Yeah, olives sound great.

Frank started to hand stretching the pizza dough. His face and arm tensed as he did the monotonous task. He put some tomato sauce with a graceful, nigh delicate movement. Gerard was mesmerized by the gentle dance, thinking about he was seeing a cooking TV show. "Punk (and pizza) it's not dead" or something like that. God, that would be such a good pitch, he pondered. Frank made such an interesting character for TV. Cute face, soothing voice and the discrepancy between his edgy look with his dainty movements were the cherry on top.

—Almost? —Gerard asked again, but Frank seemed confused.— So do you 'almost' own this place?

—Oh, yeah. Sorry, I'm not used to people talking to me when I work.

—Okay. —Gerard lowered his voice. That was awkward.

—I didn't mean it like that. Sorry if I sound like an asshole, I just get too focused when I'm cooking. —Frank was smiling so confidently he made Gerard felt annoyed. Frank seemed to have his shit together and in control of the situation— It's been in the family forever. My great grandfather started it and then my grandpa took over and then it was my father's turn to run it. But now he is on a cruise with my mom so... I'm kinda stuck with it for a few weeks.

—That sucks.

—Not at all! —Frank said and Gerard grinned uncomfortably. Definitely he was very out of shape in the 'social interaction' field.— I love cooking and I love pizza. I've grown looking at my father and grandpa making pizza for a living so I've been dreaming about doing this for a long time, you know?

But Gerard didn't. He knew Frank wasn't referring to the 'making pizza for a living' bit but to the fact that he had a dream, a plan since he was little and he was going after it. Gerard couldn't relate at all. Maybe it was his depression talking or the fact that he was dumped and had to leave the city he loved but Gerard felt so pathetically helpless. He had lost his north and the worst part is that he wasn't even sure if he had one in the first place.

Frank peeped at the oven where he placed the pizza moments ago. Soon enough the smell started to flood the little place and made Gerard's stomach grumble despite he ate a few hours ago. Being sober these past months made him hungrier and gain a few extra pounds, but Gerard found some consolation on thinking that was just his body functioning correctly.

—Okay Gerard, I know we just met but I have to address the elephant in the room.

—Yes? —Gerard nodded.

—I want to know you a little more but I don't know how much I'm supposed to ask. —Frank had a curious smile, not malicious or anything. He seemed like he was truly interested.

—You can ask whatever you like. —Of course they were a lot of topics that Gerard wanted to avoid but he didn't want to sound melodramatic since Frank gave him free pizza and smoke but... Fuck it, maybe he needed to vent after all. Therapeutic shit— Are you afraid I'm going to cry again?

—Yeah. —said Frank chuckling.— I don't want to stir the pot so stop me if I'm being too nosy, I just wanna know what do you do?

—I was a cartoonist in New York. Long story short, I got fired and then dumped so I had to come back here because... I'm a trainwreck as you saw before, I guess. This is my first day back in Jersey.

—Sounds intense.

A 'ding' sounded and Frank got the pizza out. It tasted as delicious as it looked. Gerard complimented Frank, who got chatty about testing this new tomato sauce recipe that he wanted to perfect before his dad came back.

After eating half of the pizza, they both smoked outside. Cigarettes courtesy of Frank again.

—So you are in kinda 'retreat' in here?

—Sort of. —Despite Gerard's effort on not hinting his past addiction, Frank seemed to figure it out but he was nice enough to not ask directly about it.

—I get it. It must have been hard.

—Yeah.

—But you are in a better place now, I guess?

—'Better' as in 'Jersey' you mean? —Gerard chuckled with Frank's efforts to being supportive but he didn't want to sound rude. —I guess so. I'm living with a friend now and I have my family closer but...

Gerard's chest felt heavy. His breath got troubled and his eyes blurry.

—But you are going to be ok. —Frank interrupted Gerard's train of thoughts with a raspy and firm voice— Dude, I don't really know you but I get it. I really do. You just have to be patient.

Maybe Frank was right. He was going to be just ok. He just needed time and patience to amend whatever was happening in his head. All the despair, all the sadness, all those numb feelings that were all over the fucking place. All of that shit was going to disappear. He just needed to walk through all the crap first. He just had to.

But at the same time, why was Gerard taking the advice of a stranger? Or worst, the advice of a barely underage conformist guy who was happily working on a fucking old pizzeria? He didn't need time, he needed to stop being such a bitch and get his job and Bert back.

—I'll better be going. Thanks for the pizza and the smokes, Frank.

Gerard stood up. He still couldn't wrap what the fuck was going on inside his head. Maybe he just needed to sleep his misery away before jumping onto conclusions.

—Wait. —Frank went inside the restaurant and came back with a pizza box— Take the rest. You cannot fix a heartbreak on an empty stomach.

—It's not a heartbreak —Gerard was pissed. It was so much complicated than that.

—I know. I'm just joking. —But Frank was smiling again while handing Gerard a cigarette— And this is for your way back home.

—Thank you. —Gerard felt ashamed for being such a prick. Frank was just trying to be civil with him and he didn't even have to.— Hey, wanna share a taxi or something? It's late.

—I live upstairs. Also, I really need to keep working. I have to finish the inventory and some stuff with the cash flow. I'm not very good at math. Thank you, though.

Walking back to Ray's place with half a pizza and a smoke sounded tempting but Gerard considered for a brief moment to offer Frank help. He was okay at math. But again, his messed up mind wasn't very reliable. He didn't want to sound desperate for craving serotonin in the form of a new friendship or human contact. God, he felt so alone but he had to grapple the last strands of pride he had left.

—Good luck with that and... Thank you again, Frank.

Frank waived and got into the building again.

It was a weird night for sure. A weird day in general. But casual encounters with deep conversations were kind of common in the long nights of old coked-up Gerard so it wasn't the first time he cried in front of a stranger.

The first time was at a fast-food restaurant. Gerard was waiting in line for several minutes, completely drunk, craving some french fries and a milkshake. It was one of his first-night outs in New York and he drank a little bit too much in an art exhibition. When it was his turn, he found out he lost his wallet and started crying for being so stupid. But a smiling stranger offered to buy him some food. They talked for hours about all the topics in the world and held hands on their way to the subway. The stranger also held Gerard's long black hair when he puked in an alley next to his apartment. Then Gerard learned the whimsical stranger was trying to stay sober and wanted to take Gerard on a date after all. It was the kind of fleeting love that didn't mean to last but it did. Bert knew Gerard was trouble in the first moment they met but took the chance anyway.

The last time Gerard cried in front of a stranger it was outside a club. He just received a call from Bert saying he needed to go home right away. He found blow (blow he thought was missing) in Gerard's pants. Gerard knew he was screwed as he cried his eyes out in the shoulder of a drag queen who was trying to sell him some ketamine moments before.

Gerard was used to getting into quaint, dramatic scenarios.

But it was different doing it sober. There was also the fact that he could see Frank again. Shit, they even maybe could be friends at some point. Some friends would be nice, Gerard thought. That maybe will make him feel like a proper human again.

The note he left for Ray was still in the table so he threw it away and put the pizza box and a new note that said _'I went for a midnight snack, take a slice if you wanna. Please don't let me oversleep'_. Then he took off his leather jacket and tucked himself to sleep. He was drained as fuck and didn't have enough energy to cry for Bert again.

—One day at a time.

Gerard said before closing his eyes, listening to the early bird's chirp.

***

Apparently the pizza offering and the cute note wasn't enough for Ray because he let Gerard overslept anyway. When he came out of the bedroom it was noon and Ray was finishing cooking lunch.

—Good morning sunshine. —said Ray with a smile.

—Morning? It's almost noon.

—I tried to wake you up earlier but it was impossible, trust me.

Gerard got himself a cup of coffee Ray made for especially for him. He knew him so well. Ray even got him the newspaper so he read it until he noticed the pizza box was missing.

—Did you eat the pizza?

—I had it for breakfast. It was very good even cold, where did you get it from?

—Iero's Pizza, do you know that place? —Gerard said but Ray nodded— I don't know exactly where is it but it's like 20 minutes walking.

—So what's up with you walking alone at midnight? —Ray seated next to Gerard, showing concern. Gerard wanted to be a jerk but he was sure Ray wasn't trying to be a pain in the ass.

—I dunno. I couldn't sleep. You know I have insomnia since I'm sober.

—Yes I do but you can't do that. This is not...

—I know this is not New York.

—Don't get angry with me. I'm trying to take care of you, it's your first day here, can I get a little concerned if you go outside alone in fucking Jersey?

—It's not that dangerous, Ray.

—Yeah but--

—Do you think I went outside to get some coke or something? —Gerard spat.

—Shit, no. —Ray was pouting— I trust you, I'm legit concerned because things can get a little bit sketchy in here. Remember when we got mugged in high school at gunpoint?

—I'm sure those guns were plastic but whatever.

Gerard and Ray chuckled.

—I'm sorry Ray. I didn't mean to snap like that. I just don't feel like myself lately.

—I wouldn't expect that, really. It's been only like one day?

—Yeah but you are being nice and I'm right here being a fucking asshole.

—Hey, I can handle you being moody... —Suddenly, Ray's tone voice changed to a calmer one, preparing Gerard for what was about to say—but you need to do something about it.

—Something like what? Therapy? I'm gonna do that, I promise.

Ray opened his mouth but someone knocked on the door. Ray went to open it while Gerard finished his coffee but it got sour when he heard Mikey's and his mother's voices.

—Motherfucker. —he said to himself.

***

Ray, Mikey, Donna, and Gerard had a rather pacific lunch. 'Pacific' meaning that Gerard remained silent eating his food. When he finished, he got himself occupied smoking the cigarettes so kindly Mikey brought him. They were trying to lure him with frivolous conversations, cheap smokes, chicken parmesan, and Gerard wasn't having it. He got into that trap too many times to bear another patronizing intervention-chat bullshit.

—Okay, can we stop the crap and tell me what are you trying to do?

—Gerard... —Said Ray with a whisper.

—It is because I didn't tell you Bert kicked me off the apartment?

—Gerard, love, we aren't trying to--—Donna said in a sweet voice.

—Or it is because you cannot trust me that I'll keep attending the fucking NA meetings?—Rage was all that Gerard was feeling but he started to cry anyway, like a automate reaction— I'll fucking go, I just arrived here. 

—Don't talk to mom like that. —Mikey intervened finally. —We are trying to help you.

—Shit, I know I'm a mess right now but I don't need your disdain. I'm not a child.

—You are acting like one right now.

—Shut up Mikey, if you wanted to help me you wouldn't snitched to Bert.

Gerard stood up and stormed the guest room. He knew he was acting like a stereotypical teenager but Ray had not right to set him like that. Like he was a fucking addict or like he was relapsing. He was sober for months for god's sake and apparently nobody cared about how good he was doing. Not Ray, not Mikey, not his mom, not Bert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you guys doing? I'm gonna try to update more frequently so this quarantine will not be so boring lol  
I don't really want to study for my online classes lol  
Hope all of you are safe <3


	3. What about it?

Gerard was in the front of an old library building, holding a NA flyer that his mother and Mikey left a few days ago in the awkward "welcome back" lunch. A visit that was supposed to cheer him, according to Ray but instead it ended with Gerard locked in the guest room, presumably unpacking his art supplies until his mom knocked on the door, saying that they were leaving and, despite all, their doors would be always open when he wanted to visit to talk about what happened on New York... or just to know how he was doing. 

That made Gerard felt like shit. 

When Ray went to sleep, Gerard took the flyers and read them multiple times until he decided to attend a NA meeting next week and make it a habit, just like he did in New York. Before moving out of Bert's, Gerard thought about going to therapy with a psychiatrist based in Jersey recommended by his old sponsor. The reason was simple: he didn't want to be a newcomer all over again in NA. The first meetings were pretty awkward and sometimes made Gerard feel even more depressed. It was a bet with the group and the counselors and the possibility to run into people he already knew. Also, Gerard had enough savings to afford some sessions with the psychiatrist before finding a job. 

Maybe he needed to do both. Yeah, that made perfect sense until he found himself entering the old building. NA meetings in public libraries? Fuck, at least if he encountered an old college partner he could say he was just looking for a book, not that he was a recovering addict. And that was exactly what he was doing, browsing through the poor collection of comics in the library. Gerard noticed he was already late for the meeting. 

—Are you here for the meetings? —said an old lady in a quiet voice. 

—Uh... not really.

—Oh, okay. —the lady lowered his voice even more.— Just in case: it is in the back room. Number 3. 

The lady smiled, took some books and left. When Gerard lost her out of sight, he rushed to the meeting room just to find a small group yet diverse group. With a glance, he tried to classify some of the members: construction worker, a young lady that looked like a lawyer, a soccer mom and a couple of really old dudes. He also smelled once again the signature scent of any NA meeting: instant coffee. 

—I'm seeing new faces today. —said a 40-something lady with a bright color dress and a matching headwrap— I'm Ava and first of all, I want to say thank you to all of you for coming here. We know it's not an easy choice but we are going to make you all feel comfortable and loved, don't we all?

The whole room nodded and said 'aye' instantly, with big smiles in their faces. That was new. Gerard's last group was... different. When they weren't giving judgy looks in complete silence, they were screaming at each other. The group leader wasn't very a leader but Ava seemed like she was a figure to look up to. Gerard liked that.

—My name is Gerard. I'm 24 and I... I have problems with some stuff. 

—Stuff? —Ava leaned and looked Gerard directly in the eye. It wasn't a rude stare, but a defiant one— Can you tell us more about that 'stuff'?

—Uh... I'm an addict. —Gerard crossed his arms. He really hated this part. Opening up, exposing all of his own dumb past decisions to complete strangers. — I'm trying to fix that.

But Ava didn't seem satisfied with his response. 

—Mostly to coke, some K too. And booze. I've clean for four months and... I've fucked up big time in the past so I'm trying to repair that. 

The hardest part was over and Gerard leaned into the chair to try to listen to every story in the group. A lot of them were there because of coke. What a hell of a drug, he thought. He was also amazed by how open the members were. It somehow made him feel even more welcome. He didn't felt like a piece of shit. 

Ava was also very good at managing people and asking poignant but necessary questions. Sort of firm but caring love where all the suffering was used to grow, not to feel bad about it. He noticed it when a pale and slender college girl who abused Dexedrine to study started to sob about the disappointment she was for her family. Ava let her cry for an exact minute and then began to give her a speech about how she didn't need to prove anything to anybody except to herself. 

—And this goes for everybody: Yes, you can suffer, you can cry and be angry about how unfair is everything but the catch is that you cannot let yourself be a prisoner of your own misery. —Ava said, making eye contact with the group— Feel like shit and blame yourself for all you've have done for a moment but then move on and keep growing. We owe ourselves to be better than that. 

—But what can I do if it's too much? —asked the college girl.

—Talk to a friend, to a counselor. Write about it, draw about it. Go for a walk, do some exercise, pet a dog, meet new people. Whatever activity that you never tried before, try to challenge yourself and I promise the despair would be gone. 

When the meeting finished, Gerard went to the food table to eat one cookie. Ava approached him with a big smile.

—Gerard, can I talk with you?

—Yes, of course. —He felt nervous. 

—I just wanted to say that I hope you liked the group enough to stick with us. Did you felt comfortable? 

—Yeah, I mean. It's different than my old NA group but in a good way, you know? 

—Oh, so you have done this before. 

—Yup. I moved here a week ago. 

—I'm glad that you still decided to attend the meetings. I know it can be a little stressful to introduce yourself to a whole set of new people but hey, if you need something we are here. 

Ava touched Gerard's arm with a smile. She had a very big motherly energy that made Gerard smile for the first time in a week. He was glad that he came there after all. 

***

When Gerard arrived at Ray's home (he still wasn't used to calling it his own home) he instantly smelled the scent of fried garlic. In the meeting, he ate 3 cookies but somehow he was hungry again. God, he needed to walk more frequently or he was going to gain a lot of weight. 

—Hey you. —Ray was garnishing two plates of fried veggie rice— Hungry?

—Yeah. —Gerard left his jacket on the sofa and sat down in front of the steamy plate.

The friends ate in silence for a few minutes. Smiling Ray didn't take his eyes off Gerard until he finished his plate.

—Did you like it? 

—A lot. I didn't know you were such a good cook, Ray. 

—I took some lessons two months ago as an after-office hobby and actually liked it, impressive uh?

Gerard smiled. Ray was such a sweetheart. He invited Gerard to live with him, no questions asked, after the Bert situation and cooked him yummy meals despite not talking directly with him for a week after Donna's and Mikey's visit? Maybe Gerard needed to apologize. He was just trying to be a good friend, not a narc. 

—Ray, about the other day...

—Don't need to talk about it. I went too over the line and I understand why you were so pissed. 

—No, listen. You were right. I was such a fucking dumbass. You were trying to help me and I just went on full self-sabotage mode. The change of routine was too much and I was immature, I know I need to do better. I'll do better, I promise. 

—I like this change of attitude. —Ray smiled— and I don't want to make you feel like a child... I just... I just worry and I didn't know what to do. 

—What if next time that you invite Mikey and my mom you tell me? 

—Deal. Only if you tell me about your nocturnal walks. 

—Okay, I guess I'm gonna do that a lot. I don't wanna get too chubby. —Gerard chuckled— Specially with the fact that suddenly you are a chef. 

—That's not my fault!

Ray and Gerard laughed. It felt good to talk about it, Ava was right.

—So... I went to a NA meeting. 

—Dude, seriously? That's great. How it was?

—Weird. But nice. I landed in a good group I think. The group leader lady, Ava, is such a badass. 

Gerard kept talking about how the meeting went and Ray listened to it very concentrated. After a while, Ray said he was going to sleep but Gerard was -like every other night- still restless. He went to his room to sketch and look at his cellphone: no missing calls or text messages from Bert. It only passed a week, how many more to go?

With the solitude Gerard felt that warm feeling that the NA meeting left him, fading away. 

So he went for a walk again. He couldn't resist anymore being in the room, trying to do like nothing was happening inside his head. To keep doing the same vampire cartoon all over again to try to ignore the urge of taking Ray's car to go back to New York and beg Bert forgiveness. Because like the vampire sketch he knew by rote, he also knew, word by word, the speech he was going to do when he faced Bert. He had to be prepared just in case he definitely loses all his pride. 

This time, Gerard brought a scarf too. It was a good call since he spent a whole hour in a desert park that he used to go as an angsty teen. Not a lot changed since those simpler times, he thought when he found himself doing the same things he did back then: smoke and think about how shitty everybody treated him... and also about how shitty he was too. 

A lot changed in the park though. The playground was rusty and needed a repaint urgently. The grass was yellowishly green and weeds were growing everywhere. It seemed creepy enough to make Gerard want to bring his markers to paint the scenery the next time. Instead, he did a quick doodle in his sketchbook. When he was done Gerard suddenly felt the urge to walk from the silent park. He wasn't afraid. He just felt very alone. 

"Don't let yourself be a prisoner of your own misery" Gerard repeated to himself. He wasn't sure if he comprehended exactly what Ava meant but it sort of made sense for him. Yes, he was suffering and he had to acknowledge that but he cannot let himself dread because of his suffering. It was a self-defeating mindset and Gerard wasn't into that. Not for now at least. He wanted to make an effort, a real one. 

Gerard thought about visiting Frank. After all, Ava said it was good to meet new people. He was new people and he wasn't a drug dealer so he was safe. He still didn't have a clue about what the hell was going to be his excuse for a 1 AM visit but how hard could it be to make a new friend? He made them all the time when he was in New York. The circumstances weren't the same but whatever. 

Luckily, the lights were on and Frank was inside doing the same thing he was doing in their first encounter. Gerard knocked, still debating himself if it was a good idea. When Frank saw him, he did a funny yet smiling surprised face. 

—Hey, the weirdo who walks everywhere!

—That's me. —Gerard grinned, trying to look as amicable as possible. 

—If you are looking for some smokes I'm afraid I don't have any.

—Then I guess I can return the favor now? —From his pocket, Gerard showed Frank a cigarette box that made him smile and close the store door behind him. Smoking had a lot of downsides but it really had a social element that Gerard enjoyed. 

They both sat on the sidewalk to smoke. There was no soul in the street, just some occasional dog's barking at the distance. The night was cold and the moon full, shiny and beautiful, and yet again, Frank went outside without a jacket. 

—Aren't you like freezing? —after minutes of comfortable silence, Gerard asked. 

—What? —Frank looked at himself. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and his floured apron— No, I'm used to it. You know, kneading dough and being close to the oven all the time keeps me warm. 

—So you've been working all day I guess?

—Yeah. Nobody tells you that having a pizzeria in an Italian neighborhood is a lot of hustle. —Frank chuckled at his own joke—But, for real it feels great to relax a little bit. I was about to eat something when you came.

—Oh shit, I didn't know I was interrupting.

—No, it's okay. Really. I enjoy the company. —Frank paused for a second and then something in his eyes just brightened like he had an idea— You know what? Actually you can help me with something. 

Gerard and Frank went inside the pizzeria and Gerard noticed Frank wasn't lying: the pizzeria was really hot inside so he removed his jacket and sat in on one of the stools of the counter, looking at Frank who was removing a colorful pizza from the oven. 

—Are you kidding me? —said Gerard chuckling when Frank was cutting the meal— You eat pizza all the time?

—Wouldn't you? Dude, I love pizza. And... this is kinda for work too. 

The pizza had separated sections with different toppings. Some that looked like classical combinations and some that didn't look familiar at all. 

—These convos are for the new menu so you are my beta tester I guess. —Frank began to point to every section. He sounded enthusiastic and Gerard couldn't help but smile at his excitement— We have: artichokes with coriander and basil pesto. Pickled capers with zucchini and lemon zest. Olives, basil and dried tomatoes and finally my personal favorite: blue cheese with cherry tomatoes and candied peanuts. 

—All sounds amazing and... new. 

Gerard really debated himself between tasting the delicious combinations that Frank offered or to tell the truth: that he just ate at Ray's but fuck it. There's always free space for pizza, or at least that was Frank's philosophy when he tried to explain... and he was right. The tasting was indeed amazing. It was a lot of new flavors that he had never experienced before. Gerard thought about telling Frank that, he didn't have luck with this menu in Jersey, he should try in New York. People would love it there, especially food snobs. 

—So, what do you think? —said Frank writing something in his notebook— Do you have any suggestion? Or maybe a new combination that I can test?

—Uh.. what if you put some anchovies on some? I don't like them but some people do.

—I'm a vegetarian so I'm trying to do a veggie menu so I can prove my dad there's demand. Jersey is getting really progressive, you know. 

—That's hard to believe. —Gerard grinned playfully— How much time do you have though? When do your parents come back from their vacation thingy? 

—Uhh... maybe 4 more weeks? 

—Wow, that's a lot.

—I know right? They saved for years to do this thing and I don't really get it, they watched Titanic and they still wanted to go on a cruise? They are nuts. —Frank laughed and raised his arms, stretching and revealing some of his tummy tattoos—Anyway, I bet they are more concerned about the state of the pizzeria than fucking sinking, you know.

—Why? 

—They love me and all that but they think I'm weird.

—Because you are a vegetarian? or because of the tattoos? —Gerard looked directly at the tattoos, unabashed.

—And some other stuff too but it doesn't matter.

Gerard yearned the answer. 

—Whatever, enough of me. —Frank munched some of the remaining pizza crusts— What about you? How's is Jersey treating you?

—It's going okay. —Gerard struggled to try to think about some story that didn't involve fights or fucking Narcotic Anonymous— I don't really have anything new to tell. Not for now. 

—You really enjoy being mysterious, don't you? You wearing black, long-haired, trying to look like a vampire. I get your vibe. 

—It's not that! I swear! —Gerard laughed— And you didn't tell me why your parents think you are weird neither!

—I guess we still have to work on this friendship, you know, before telling each other's secrets. You have to earn my trust first, new fella. 

Gerard felt his cheeks blushing. Friendship? New fella? Frank was bold and straightforward but in a cute confident way so he didn't really mind that he was trying to move from the 'complete strangers' territory to a more friendly one. 

—I have an idea, what if I help you with those math problems you were telling me the other day? 

—Do you mean the cash flow? 

—Yeah, that. Whatever. Lemme see those numbers.

At contrary to what Gerard thought, he wasn't any better than Frank in math at all. In fact, Frank ended teaching some stuff to Gerard. It was really embarrassing but Frank seemed to enjoy it a lot so Gerard had to laugh at his own failures. He was so into the endless jokes that Frank made that he didn't notice the hour. It was 3 AM so he said goodbye to Frank and walked to Ray's house. When he laid down, he felt this warm calm feeling again. He made a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's such a thing as a 'food fic'? lol I just realized I mention it a lot.  
Hope all of you are safe and sound!
> 
> Let me know in the comments what did you think about this chapter :)


	4. Too fucking much

It took one week exactly for Gerard to make it to the psychiatrist's appointment. He scheduled it the day after his second session in NA but ended kicking it for a few days just because he couldn't wake up early. The therapist, Rosa, a sweet old lady only had a 10 AM slot for Gerard which was extremely early for him considering he was going to sleep at 8 AM. But Gerard wasn't getting his sleep schedule fucked because of his broken heart. He was also working on his portfolio, hoping on getting an illustration work in Jersey, which was kind of unlikely but still. 

Finally, after staying up all night, Gerard drank one coffee with a surprised Ray in the morning and took a shuttle to the appointment. 

The session with Rosa was ok. Obviously, the first sessions never went smooth but Gerard had to take advantage of each one since it was going to take a lot of his savings. He cried until he wasn't sleepy anymore and whined about everything he possibly could think of. Because of the cost of each session, they both agreed on two times per month. It wasn't enough but it was all that Gerard could afford until he gets a nice job. Besides, he still had the NA meetings which were going very well each week. 

Luckily for Gerard, Rosa's office was next to a mall so he pampered himself with another coffee. He deserved it for going to the fucking shrink, he thought. And since he was early and had absolutely nothing to do, he wandered. Gerard went to an art supply store for some Bristol paper but ended looking at the 'help wanted' sign that was upfront. 

***

The old Way's house was just like Gerard remembered it. It was almost uncanny. The gnomes, the old hose lying around, even the tacky stickers Gerard put the basement door that went to the patio. But even with the familiar details, Gerard felt uneasy in there. Like an invader. He didn't go to his mother's house in almost a year and since they had that fight in Ray's things got even weirder between them. 

—Oh my god, Gee, what a sweet-sweet surprise! —said Donna hugging Gerard.— If I had known you'll come I would make your favorite dish! 

It was almost 1 PM but the house was dark and silent. Since Gerard's dad died, the house got even a sharper smell of cigarettes and humidity for some reason. As Gerard seated in the old dusty sofas, he felt guilty again thinking about how distant he was with his family when everything went through shit. But it's always easier to say (and pretend) that a family death doesn't affect you and just indulging in some bad habits. 

When his grandmother died, he became an even more lonely and sheltered teenager. He started smoking like a chimney and instead of making friends and going to parties, he drew. But that isolation had a positive outcome: he found out his true talent. 

When his dad died, Gerard flew away to New York, trying to leave behind sad and cursed Jersey and all of the bad stuff: the funerals, the depression, his old weird and awkward personality. 

—Gerard! —Mikey said coming down the stairs.

Gerard grinned as he saw Mikey wearing his Blockbuster uniform. He didn't seem so pleased but Gerard couldn't blame him. He knew Mikey resented him a little bit since Gerard ran away and left him alone with his grieving mother. Since the heritage money wasn't a lot, Mikey had to take a job while studying to support them both. 

—Are you staying for lunch? —asked Mikey. 

—Not really.

—But sweety, I can fix you something quick! —insisted Donna.

—I can't... I have something to do. —but the only real plan Gerard had was to take a nap and draw. He felt horrible for not wanting to spend more time with his mom but he wasn't ready— So I'd better be going. 

—I can drop you off. Ray's is on my way. 

The way to Ray's house was awkward. Mikey remained driving in silence and Gerard was moving his legs nervously and having problems maintaining his eyes open at the same time. 

—You should visit more often. —Mikey finally said— Mom needs company. 

—I thought she still was working... And, I don't know if--

—Cut it out with that-- that depressive bullshit, Gerard. —Mikey's face was neutral and his voice calm, despite what he was saying— I get that you are struggling, I swear to god I get it but you need to make an effort at least with mom. 

—I am making an effort... Just give me time. 

—Are you, though? 

There was something odd about being lectured by your younger brother that Gerard found extremely uncomfortable and made his skin crawl. He wanted to scream.

—What's wrong with you Mikey? I'm telling you I'm fucking trying. I didn't relapse, I'm going to the fucking meetings, I'm going to the shrink and I even applied for a fucking job. 

—Shit Gerard, I didn't know you--

—Yeah, you don't know and you still are fucking messing up with me. —Gerard saw Ray's house on a few blocks— Leave me here. I'm tired. 

Mikey stopped the car and Gerard got out, slamming the car's door, making Mikey roll down the window. 

—I get you are angry but you cannot do that. 

Gerard walked towards the house and got in, not looking back at Mikey. When he closed the door behind him, he cried long and loud out of frustration. He wasn't angry anymore, he just felt fucking exhausted. 

***

The bedroom felt hot and humid. Gerard woke up sweating, realizing he went to sleep with his jacket on. Confused about what time (or day) it was, he looked outside. Another cloudy cold night in Jersey. Gerard also took a quick look at his cellphone: he had three missed calls from Ray and a message from Mikey saying he was sorry. Sadly, Bert was still missing in action. 

Another week without hearing about him. That wasn't supposed to happen but there he was again: sad and miserable. And it was getting old very quickly, Gerard thought. Yes, he had to move on but the reality is that getting over a relationship wasn't as easy as people often said. It also didn't help the fact that he also was facing a lot of changes. He felt like his life was a fucked up art project. But the kind of projects he saw in his first year of art school: Too fragile, too messy and too hard to explain and fix when somebody called you out. 

Gerard really wanted to stop mentally whining about how overwhelming everything was. But even that solely action was too fucking much. He thought about stopping to care about everything so much and take one day (or night) at a time, or whatever Ava said on one of the meetings. He took a mental note to ask for Rosa to tink up his medication. 

Lazily, Gerard went to the kitchen to drink some water until the phone rang. He didn't pick up, so it went directly to the voicemail. 

—Hey buddy, it's me. —Ray's voice was giggly and hard to listen to because of the background noise— Listen, I forgot to tell you but I'm going to be late today... There's frozen food you can eat but please don't burn my house down? 

Given that he fucked up his night schedule again, Gerard had next to zero plans for another long night up and he really wasn't in the mood to keep working in his portfolio so he peeped quickly to the frozen foods (all diet-friendly ones) and put on his jacket again, making a quick sniff test. He didn't smell like sweat so he was good to go. 

***

When he saw the familiar sign, Gerard smiled. He was looking forward to this sort of shtick he had with Frank. Despite not knowing much about the guy, it was good to have company, a distraction, a person who he could talk about the most mundane stuff without being judged. Also, there was pizza. Good pizza.

But instead of seeing Frank kneading dough or being confused with the cash flow, he saw him talking to the phone. It seemed obvious for Gerard that he was having a heated discussion that made him furious. 

It was cold outside but Gerard chose to walk around the street from a cautious distance and keeping his eyes on Frank until he finished his call. He couldn't see his face from the street but Gerard took the chance to say 'hi' anyway. 

—Hey you. —said Gerard, chiming in with a shy smile.

—Hey. —Frank was chopping vegetables, trying not to look at Gerard. He was clearly pissed— Did you had dinner?

—What? —The question got Gerard by surprise since Frank's face was so blunt, so different than the lively persona he met.— Uh...

—I'm gonna take that as a 'no' then. 

Before Gerard could answer again, Frank was assembling a colorful salad and served it in two plates. Again, Gerard found himself mesmerized by Frank's movements when he grated some cheese at the top and sprinkled a mix of peppers.

One of the plates was for Gerard. Or at least that's what he thought when Frank began to eat looking at the window, completely detached to the situation. Gerard blamed himself for coming in such bad timing. Now he was stuck with moody Frank and healthy food. 

—I can't believe them. —Frank said— They are just... fuck. 

Gerard hawked, waiting for Frank to continue but he shut out again. Gerard looked at his salad. It had olives, artichokes, spinach, dried tomatoes and some other stuff that he didn't recognize. He wanted to ask but he didn't want to change the subject... Whatever it was.

—They simply cannot trust me. —he continued— Like I'm still a child to them, you know? I'm tired to prove myself every fucking time. 

Frank fidgeted his fork, looking at Gerard with frustration. He wasn't mad with him. Maybe he just needed to vent. That's what friends were for, right?

—Your parents? —asked Gerard and started to eat his salad to look casual. 

—Yeah. They called me from Greece, I think? Just to complain about how shitty my management was and the mistake they made for letting me take care of the restaurant. Like, if I wasn't prepared? What the fuck.

—But, how did they know? 

—Don snitched. A regular customer who is like, a fucking hundred years old. 

—And still, he has the energy to talk shit on your back? —Gerard sniggered nervously, hopeful to make Frank smile a little. 

—Fucking Don. —Frank's face brightened a little bit— And why did they have to check first on him on how I am doing? Do you know how expensive those calls are? Like, I'm almost 20, I don't need to have a fucking chaperone to run a business I know so well. I'm doing it pretty well, you know?

—I guess so. 

Frank finished his salad and began to do count the money from very old -almost ornamental- cash register. Gerard was still eating, unsure about what to say next. He wanted to do things in the right way, he wanted to make Frank feel supported and be a real friend but he simply didn't know how to do and how to act when sober. When he snorted coke he felt a lot more awake, sharp and confident. Now he was just a shell of the half-assed person he was before. All the advice he thought about didn't convince him. It all sounded like a cheap and generic self-help article he often read on the NA pamphlets. 

—Hey... sorry for my sudden rant. I didn't mean to ruin the mood. You came here all smiley and cute and I... just began to complain about my fucking parents like a fucking teenager, you know? I mean, I guess they are right after all. I'm just immature, and a fucking let down. —Frank sighed— And fuck, here I'm again ranting about how my parents are shitty and how unfair everything is and wah-wah. Fuck, I'm sorry dude. 

—It's fine. I mean, at least you aren't crying on the sidewalk asking for a smoke to a complete stranger, so... —Gerard was struck about two things: that Frank called him cute and that he still wasn't sure how to calm him down, so he wished the best and let themself go— And fuck, if it helps you I'm having a hard time too, I don't mind to have company on my misery. 

—You really have a way with words, fella. —Frank chuckled — Well, I felt better. It's nice to whine sometimes. 

—Don't worry about them. Your parents, I mean. What I've learned in all my years being a real disappointment to my family is that they'll always except more than you are prepared to give, you know?

—Oh my god, you are an angsty teen in the body of a grown-up man too.

—But did you grow up though? 

—Fuck you. —Frank punched Gerard's arm playfully, with a goofy smile.

—Plus, you make excellent pizzas... and salads, and I've never even been fond of healthy food so, yeah. —said Gerard making Frank blush. 

Despite not fixing any of Frank's problems, making him smile was enough to give Gerard a self-esteem boost. Maybe he didn't suck at all in the social interactions area. He was just out of shape. 

—Thank you, Gerard. —Frank lowered his sight and took Gerard's now empty plate to the dishwasher— Hey, what about you? How was your week, fella? 

It was the perfect occasion to finally talk about his problems but Gerard struggled again on how to tell them and even if it was appropriate to say them. 

—Uh... I began to visit a park near here. —Frank raised an eyebrow —Oak Park. It was all rusty and depressing, very different from what it used to be when I was a teenager. Shit's kinda creepy but I like it. 

—Oak Park? Oh shit —Frank visibly shivered with an awkward smile— Dude that's creepy as fuck. 

—Says the guy covered with tattoos —Gerard laughed— Aren't you too grown up to believe in ghosts?

—Fuck no. It's just that... there are two possible outcomes of going to that park: to get stabbed or get drugs. —Frank's voice got quieter as he said the last two words, realizing what he did.

—Oh. 

—Shit, sorry. I didn't mean it like that.

Finally, the cat was out of the bag... but was it really? Since their first encounter, Gerard had the feeling that Frank somehow did know about his 'problem'. Or that he perceived that Gerard had bigger problems but, how fucked up did he see to be THAT evident? Sure, Gerard knew he was a mess but he still wished he had a scrap of pride (and mysteriousness) to no be such a noticeable struggling addict. What it was? The eyebags? His restless leg? Maybe Frank was too sensitive to that kind of signs, maybe he struggled with addiction as well. Maybe he had a close relative in the same position.

Whatever was the case, Frank tried to make excuses about how he didn't mean that, that he was just joking. That everything was just a misunderstanding and that he didn't have ulterior motives or hurt Gerard. He seemed stressed enough to make Gerard chuckle. 

—You didn't offend me, I swear. Besides, I'm sober. 

—That's great. —Frank stuttered— And, again, I'm so sorry. 

—Stop it. —Gerard grinned— I know it's not an easy topic to introduce but I have enough pity from my family already.

—Okay, you are sober and aren't bleeding either so... what did you do? —Frank chuckled nervously.

—I just go to smoke and draw. Last time I brought some markers and stayed like two fucking hours and I didn't notice. It's sort of... therapeutic.

—Do you think... —Frank was staring at Gerard, and Gerard stared back.— Do you mind taking me there? Like, right now?

Gerard stuttered. Frank was still staring at him with big eyes so he had to look down. Frank insisted again saying he really wanted to go with him since he wouldn't go alone. 

—Okay, let's go. 

—Let me get my jacket!

Frank opened a door that revealed stairs that went to the second floor. He went up and Gerard stayed there until Frank peeped his head, looking and inviting Gerard to come with him. Quickly, Gerard went after him on the screeching stairs. 

The Iero's home smelled like fresh furniture polish and was strictly decorated with old family photos and catholic symbols. With a quick glance, Gerard learned that the Iero's were close and very proud of their Italian heritage. And despite all the faces looking at Gerard, he didn't felt creeped out. Instead, he looked at the photos, searching for an awkward tween Frank. He just found one photo of Frank with a uniform, apparently from catholic school. He was holding a candle and looking pissed at the camera. 

—Shit —said Frank from the other room.

Gerard went to Frank's bedroom. It was tiny but neat, equipped with just a bed a nightstand with a bong and a guitar that Frank was picking up the floor. 

—Sorry for the mess. —Frank blushed, trying to search for a jacket in his all-black closet— You can seat on my bed, I won't take long.

The walls and even the ceiling had posters of punk bands. Some popular, some others that Gerard never heard about. Also, a lot of polaroids: Frank meeting the Misfits, Frank in NYC with some friends, a pizza, some dogs, and the photo of a beautiful pale girl smiling at the camera. 

—Okay, let's fucking go!

Frank put on a black hoodie and a blue jean jacket with a lot of pins. He looked like a poster punk boy from an alternative magazine. Gerard smiled and stared blatantly at smiling Frank, forgetting about Bert, Mikey his mom and all his problems. Fuck, he was hot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment? :)


	5. It's not what it looks like

Walking to the park was fun. As Frank was ranting about the reception of the new pizza topping he was testing the other day, Gerard found himself comfortable on the thought of both being friends. From first sight, they were very different. Not only on looks but also in personality, but they had a similar sense of humor and the same sort of angsty feelings against their parents. Of course, also Gerard pondered the fact that maybe Frank felt like that because he was sort of immature but he didn't mind. 

They seated on the old, rusty swings and Frank moved like he was a child all over again. Gerard was sort of worried that the structure could collapse but Frank was very pushy enough to convince him to swing just a little bit. 

After making a fool of themselves (Gerard's words) they went to the most intact picnic table, the only one who had at least one of the seats. The wood was dirty, harsh, and had a lot of botched engraves with sucky poetry, insults, phone numbers, and cheesy love declarations. 

—This surely changed a lot. —Frank said, looking at some papers and plastic bags next to the non-existent trashcan.

Despite Frank was sharing the long woody seat with Gerard, he managed to get closer to him like he needed to make sure he could be heard even if he whispered. 

—It wasn't exactly a paradise park then, I used to come here to buy some... —Frank stuttered— Stuff but... Shit. 

—Stuff? C'mon dude. —Gerard asked with a playful smile— I saw your bong in your room. 

—Sorry. 

—Nah, I didn't quite get the fuzz about weed. Being all dopey wasn't my thing. You didn't strike me as a stoner, tough. —Gerard looked at Frank with a smile but he was trying very obviously to avoid his sight.

The sudden silence got awkward and Gerard did what he always has done in situations like these: got his cigarettes. It was the last one he had but he needed it desperately. 

—How did you know? —And with the first drag, the strong smoke filling his lungs, Gerard felt like a person again— My problem, I mean. 

Frank raised his sight, looking at Gerard in the eyes. He had a surprised expression like he didn't expect Gerard to be so direct and blunt with his question. 

—I suspected something from the first day we met. You coming to Jersey so suddenly, being dumped and fired... And the urge to find cigarettes in the middle of the night. —Frank brushed his buzzcut hair, nervously— I love nicotine but it seemed like you were really, really desperate to get your mind focused on some mundane task, you know?

Gerard felt bad for the first impression he had about Frank. Him being immature because of his age, almost thinking that he was some sort of shallow because of his nice, almost bubbly, personality. He stared at Frank, trying to see him in a different light, like the sharp-eyed guy he apparently was, meanwhile he was searching on his pockets for something. 

—Shit. I think I left my smokes at the restaurant. 

—We can share. 

With a slow gesture, Gerard offered Frank his lit cigarette, making their fingers brush softly when Frank took it. Frank fingers were warm, just like that first time Gerard shook his hand. Gerard analyzed and almost enjoyed every movement of that short action and they both stared at each other when Frank took his first drag, long and patient, opening his mouth to inhale. When he let the smoke out, Gerard gazed Frank's neck and his Scorpio tattoo and then the letters in his fingers, giving the cigarette back to him.

—Can I ask you something? —Gerard said and Frank nodded— How did you manage to get so tattooed? Aren't you like 19? 

—I started when I was like, 17 I think? I can't even remember. 

—And your parents let you do it? 

—Holy shit, of course not. —Frank chuckled, rolling up his sleeve and revealing more tattoos— The first ones were in my back and upper arm so they couldn't see them but I got obsessed with getting inked and by the end of that year it was physically impossible for them not to notice so they grounded me and... I got myself even more tattoos, ha!

—Shit, so you are really a punk kid! 

—Yeah, I was a fucking pain in the ass for my parents but I'm trying to fix that. 

—How so? 

—The thing is... I'm growing up, no shit. But, and this may sound very dumb, I just come to terms about me being responsible for my own future, you know? Like, I spent almost all high school trying to prove that this place, this town was too little, too old-fashioned for me because nobody seems to 'get me' and I just wanted to fucking do whatever I feel it was okay like there wasn't any future, no consequences in my actions. —Frank took another long drag in his turn with the cigarette, and frowned as he was trying to find the right words— And I still have problems trying to figure it out what I want, but I just feel I have some sort of clue on what that is... But, at the same time, I don't know if I can really trust myself because some times I'm too fucking categorical and too fucking intense for my own good, and I just don't wanna make the same mistakes all over again... Shit, is this getting too personal? 

Frank brushed his hair again and did a crooked smile, he then excused himself for being so messy trying to explain his own demons without getting into a fucking ton of details. On how he was being 'intense' all over again and sharing too much. 

—Frank, I get it. Look, when my father died, the next hour I was applying for every single job in New York or Philly I could find. And the day same day of the funeral, I got a call for a very cool one in Manhattan and the next day I took my comics, some clothes, my favorite mug and I just... left. 

—That's when you... —Frank looked at Gerard with big, bright eyes. His mouth was half-open, almost ready to continue talking but he didn't do it.

—Yes. I just wanted to leave all that shit behind, you know? Get the fuck out and start again. And in a way, I did. I was a very different person in New York. Here, I was this fat dorky nerd guy who thought that drawing, playing D&D, and drinking coffee non-stop was a personality trait but in New York... Shit, Frank, visiting is one thing but living in there is fucking crazy. Even more if you were an artist or at least if you wanted to live like one. —Gerard checked out for Frank and found him staring, paying attention to his rant still— So I became what I thought I wanted. I went to a lot of parties in fucking alleys, abandoned factories, and clandestine clubs. It was nice at first. Then I meet my partner who was like 8 months sober, we moved together and tried to calm down but... I couldn't. After 9/11 I just got even deeper in shit. I did a ton of drugs. Mostly uppers. I wanted to get shit done so I fell love with coke. Shit was too common to not do it. 

—Fuck. That's when your partner found out? 

—Sort of. I was on thin ice since I got fired from my job for being too fucking wasted to even draw, one time I almost puked in the middle of a pitch. It was a fucking shitshow. —Gerard struggled to continue because he was trying to maintain Bert's gender as a secret but remembering all over again those fuzzy months and containing his tears at the same time was too overwhelming to care anymore about keeping his sexuality as a secret.— So, my partner knew I had a problem with alcohol but he didn't know the other thing. One day he began to suspect more and more until my brother told him that I was doing coke almost daily. 

—And then you had to leave.

—Actually no. He... He kept me company for the first months, bear with me during the fucking withdrawals, and even went with me on my first NA meeting. When I hit four months sober he broke up with me. —Gerard's voice was trembled, fighting so hard to keep his composure— I feel so stupid because since the beginning the told me his plans but I still had this hope about him changing his opinion and sticking up with me. The worst part is that I can't fucking blame him. 

Gerard sobbed, trying to hide his face as he let out a frail whining. He was feeling cold until he felt Frank's arms surrounding him on a firm, warm hug. And despite they were smoking a few minutes before, Frank still smelled like dough and freshly ironed clothing. It was a hug long enough to make Gerard react and bosom him back, letting out his tears just go off and slow down his frantic breathing. 

—You are going to be ok. —said Frank, breaking up the hug and looking at Gerard with a compassionate yet sincere smile. 

—I hope so. 

—Now, can you show me your drawings? I've been dying for seeing them. 

Gerard's face was still wet but he managed to snicker. From his jacket, he took his rugged sketchbook and lent it to Frank who quickly went through the pages, examining each draw with big eyes. Gerard took the opportunity to dry the remaining tears on his face and to scan Frank's face as he smiled. 

—Dude, you are so talented. These are fucking amazing, you draw every day? 

—Yeah, I have insomnia so I've been drawing a lot for my new portfolio. 

—I have never seen anything like these before. It reminds me of some of the cartoons I've seen in the zines of the scene... but, well done. 

Looking at Frank so excited about his sketches gave Gerard the perfect amount of serotonin to smile for the rest of the night. They chatted about an hour about comics. Surprisingly, Frank was quite a nerd too and had a lot of knowledge on the DIY punk scene on Jersey so he recommended a lot of artists Gerard never heard of. 

The night just got colder and Frank gazed quickly at his cellphone and then showed it to Gerard with a devilish smile. It was nearly 4 AM. 

—Fuck.

—You are never going to fix your sleep schedule if we keep it like this Gerard. 

—I'm gonna try to wake up early and work during the morning... or when the sun is still up at least. I'm not picky. 

—I don't know how am I supposed to wake up at 8 AM. Tomorrow is going to be a fucking long day. —Frank said as they both started to walk— Hey... where do you live? I'll walk you there. 

—Are you sure? It's like 20 minutes from here. 

—Yeah, I'm having fun with my new fella. 

Frank smiled at Gerard, not only with his mouth but with his eyes, squinting and making his face look mischievous, and Gerard couldn't do anything but blush. His red face only made Gerard feel even more ashamed because there's no way Frank was teasing him, he just called him 'fella'. But there was something on how Frank talked that was effortless flirtatious. He could be just talking about the teachers he had on catholic school or about different types of flour and still be enticing. He wasn't a perfect storyteller but his body language, husky voice, and his remarkable ability to maintain eye contact without looking creepy were enough to do the trick. Gerard was conflicted about if he admired, envied, or was attracted to it. He couldn't even finish that half-assed peep talk he was trying to say to Frank before spiraling and cry -again- in front of him. 

Gerard shook his head, trying to brush out those thoughts as he realized that Frank was ranting about the problem with how the government should spend more money on taking care of public parks for the sake of the community. 

When they arrived, Gerard saw Ray's silhouette on the kitchen window. 

—So... your roommate is also a night owl I see. —Frank also stared, waiting for Gerard to say something.— I guess I'd better be going. 

Frank turned around and when he was about to walk away, Gerard put his hand on Frank's shoulder making him stop. 

—Hey Frank, what I wanted to say earlier before I started to cry like a baby is that... Those kinds of feelings are something everybody struggles with but it's on you to find what you can learn about that. You can try to fight or completely ignore them but that isn't going to fix your problems and if you don't believe it just look at me. 

—Thank you. 

Gerard smiled back at Frank. That wasn't bad at all, he felt and began to walk towards Ray's door but he stopped again, making Frank stare at him. He knew he was about to say something so patiently he waited.

—We should hang out more. Not just in the middle of the night. 

—But I always thought you were a vampire? —Frank did a silly face, showing his teeth.

—Aw shit, am I being too lame?

—I'll be glad to hang out with you more, dude... And I don't think you are lame. What if you come to the restaurant to work on your cartoons? You can come tomorrow if you are up to. Lunch is on me.

—I'll see you tomorrow then.

—So, in a couple of hours? 

Frank and Gerard laughed and waved at each other for a long, almost comical awkward amount of time. Frank waited until Gerard got inside the house and walked away. 

—Who is that guy? 

—Holy shit Ray. —Gerard jumped as he was 'welcomed' by a sweaty tipsy Ray holding a bowl with mac&cheese— It's a friend. Frank. He works on the pizzeria that I told you the other night.

—Oh, did you bring some?

—No? And aren't you like eating right now?

—Yes? Do you want some? 

Ray did a goofy smile. He was happy. Gerard always thought of him as his only friend who was actually funny and even nice when drunk. 

—Who is the guy though? —Ray insisted.— He is cute, are you two dating? 

—What? No way. 

—You should. You know, one nail drives out another. 

Ray sniggered but Gerard was expressionless. Yes, tipsy Ray was funny but also very annoying. 

***

Gerard was on his way to Iero's Pizzeria at 12 PM. It wasn't technically 'morning' but the sun was there so it was almost an achievement. And Gerard felt grateful to himself for doing it. The light sun rays on his pale face felt yummy in combination with the chilly wind. It was a beautiful day. 

He was enjoying himself so much that the commute took him more than excepted. So when he saw the restaurant empty he thought about Frank being angry for being so late. After waiting for 5 minutes looking through the glass door for Frank's in his red apron, Gerard turned over and began to walk away. 

—Hey! We aren't open yet but I can let you in. 

The hair was different. Short and burgundy but Gerard was sure very about it. She was the girl from the polaroid on Frank's bedroom. 

The girl invited him inside and Gerard seated in one of the booths. Besides the classic baked dough and oregano smell, there was a scent of fresh coffee. Gerard took out his sketchpad and tapped it nervously with his fingers. The girl went to the other side of the counter and checked for something in the oven. 

—What can I offer you? —she said with a smile.— Maybe some coffee? 

—Coffee would be great. 

The girl nodded and bought Gerard a mug with "Iero's Pizza" faded logo. 

—Tell me if you need anything else. —said the girl. She sounded busy— The kitchen will be open in a few if you are hungry, ok?

—Actually, I'm looking for Frank? —Gerard's question made the girl make a perfect "o" with his mouth— He told me to come here. 

—He is running some errands but he should be back at any minute. —the girl said as she seated in front of Gerard— I'm so sorry, that's so typical Frank. Are you friends? 

—Kinda. I'm Gerard. Nice to meet you. 

—Jamia. —she said with a smile. 

—I didn't know Frank had coworkers. —Gerard said with a genuinely surprise— It's not that we meet for so long but I always saw him alone. 

—Oh, I don't really work here. I'm his ex-girlfriend.—Jamia smirked sort of uncomfortable—But Frank's parents told me to come here to help him a little bit since he is alone. It's weird, right? To supervise your ex. 

—I think it depends? —Gerard wasn't lying at telling Jamia that he didn't quite know a lot about Frank so he could use this opportunity at his favor— Did you guys end on good terms?

—I think so? It was... complicated at first but we still are very close friends. —Jamia stood up and went to the oven— At least close enough to make his parents trust me to check on his little Frankie boy.

She came back to the booth with garlic bread and a big smile. As they ate, Jamia asked Gerard a lot of questions about him. Not so much about how did he meet Frank. She was interested in Gerard's work since she wanted to study graphic design the next year. She was also bummed that Frank ditched their plans so to make Gerard felt better, she told him about that time Frank tried to spin a pizza like an acrobat and failed miserably, getting his hair all doughy. Since that day, he maintained his hair short in case another "incident" occurred. Jamia had a sharp sense of humor. Even though Gerard wasn't straight, he could see why Frank dated her. 

When some customers arrived, she offered Gerard to wait and work if he wanted. Coffee on the house. Gerard said yes and began to scribble, only lifting his gaze out of the sketchpad when someone entered the restaurant. But none of them was Frank. 

After three productive but Frank-less hours, Gerard thanked Jamia for letting him crash on the restaurant and left. He thought about walking back to Ray's house to take a quick nap before the NA meeting. Instead, he opted for going to the bus stop. He was 2 hours ahead of time but public transportation in Jersey was so unpredictable bad that going there could take him the whole evening. If miraculously the bus stopped on time, he could go to kill time on a Starbucks.

He finished his first cigarette, feet in the sun as he lazily stretched his legs seating in the metallic bus stop when he saw Frank walking down the street carrying a lot of tote bags. His face was red and Gerard could see from the distance that his skin was shining due the sweat. As he approached Gerard, he also could notice that Frank had a remorseful expression. 

—Dude, I'm so so so sorry. —Frank said, leaving the bags with groceries on the floor.— I went to buy some stuff to make this fucking recipe-- because I had this idea of making vegan calzones last night when I arrived home and I meant to make it today so you could be my beta tester again but I got excited and purchased more stuff and-- I even got vegan bacon! I didn't know this existed... And you know how it's called? Facon! Isn't it awesome? And some sweet stuff since I wanna get better on baking.

Gerard stared at Frank as he was showing him different ingredients he bought. He didn't seem excited, just plain anxious. Gerard knew that Frank was feeling guilty but he didn't really want to stop him. He wasn't really angry at Frank but at himself for depending on Frank to have his daily smile. Another day, another mood swing. And he thought again: what the fuck was he doing hanging out with a kid. 

—C'mon man, tell me something. I know I fucked up. 

—It's okay Frank. I met Jamia. She is nice. —Gerard lighted another smoke, looking expressionless at the street.

—Yeah, she texted me telling me to hurry because you arrived but I run out of money for a cab on my shopping spree so I had to walk. —Frank chuckled but Gerard didn't— Do you still wanna hang out? I can bake you something with the stuff I just got.

—I can't right now.

—Well, the bus isn't gonna come any sooner. You can wait at the restaurant. 

And that's when Gerard and Frank saw it. The fucking bus turning down the street. Noisy, empty, and out of schedule. Like a fucking joke. Gerard shrugged and stood up as he looked at Frank frowning his eyebrows. 

—Stay, please? Just an hour. I can borrow Jamia's car to drop you later. 

—Frank, I can't. I have my narcotics anonymous meeting right now. —Gerard lied.

—Oh. Sorry.

The bus stopped and Gerard got in. 

***

When Gerard was sad he got wasted to forget. Now that he was sober, he only could indulge on some sugary shitty coffees. Luckily for him, Halloween was going to be soon so the chain cafeterias had a huge menu of pumpkin-spiced coffee with cream on top that supposed to look like a ghost. Gerard threw away the spooky patterned cup before entering the room. He also sighed. It was going to be a long one. 

Everybody was already seated in the circle and they weren't any new faces. Ava began to talk and the rest listened carefully until it was their turn. 

Gerard suddenly felt like getting the fuck out of there. He wasn't exactly in the right mood for telling his problems or listen to other people's problems. The previous sessions felt so good but now he felt about to fucking explode and in a desperate need for cuddling and fucking complain about everything. He missed Bert so badly that it hurt at the bottom of his heart. He was such a good listener. 

—How was your week Gerard? —Ava asked.

—I dunno. 

—Can you elaborate?

—Can I? —the snappy answer got Gerard some dirty looks from the other attendees but he didn't mind. He wasn't in New York anymore

—Please, do it. 

— Let's see, I still miss my boyfriend. I went to an interview a few days ago for a shitty job and I still didn't get it. —Gerard sighed.

—Maybe you could change your attitude a little bit? —said Lana, the overachiever lawyer with a cocky smile— You know people get bored to listen to the same shit all over again. It gets old. 

—Lana, what did I tell you about minimizing other people's problems? —Ava intervened— You know how's the drill. 

—No Ava, let her finish. That's an excellent idea. —said Gerard scoffing— I'm gonna recommend the same when it's your turn to whine about your fucking co-workers and your shitty husband. 

—Gerard! You can't say that to Lana. Apologize right away, please. 

—She started it.

—Fuck you! Go cry to your ex-boyfriend. —Lana spat out of nowhere. 

—Well, fuck you too!

—Lana, Gerard, shut it off NOW. —Ava shouted. 

But Gerard stood up and as he got out, he slammed the door. Outside the library, he took a cab and cried his eyes out when he arrived home. He didn't let Ray ask what the fuck was going on as he shut the door and lied down, still quietly crying. 

—Buddy, what happens? 

—Leave me alone, please.

Gerard could hear Ray's steps walking away. Then, he took out his cellphone to text Bert.

_"i miss you"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't wait to read your comments :)


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